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ANZAC Day - a very special day

On the 25th of April, 1990, a very special celebration took place. It was the 75th Anniversary of the landing of the ANZACs at Gallipoli and I was lucky enough to spend this day at ANZAC Cove.

Geography is what makes Australia and Turkey exist on opposite sides of the world.
Circumstance is what caused these two countries to clash in war.
Remembrance is what has united them.
An eerie peacefulness is what lives on.

Gallipoli, to me, was always a place of war. But in 1990 I made the pilgrimage to celebrate the 75th Anniversary of the landing of the ANZACs. It changed me forever, because I didn’t find the devastating battlefields I expected. Instead, I found a beautiful, tranquil place where a small Turkish peninsula overlooking the Aegean Sea has become a national park, Gelibolu National Park, to honour the dead.

Being in Gallipoli is a powerful experience, as there seems to be an unseen force enveloping the area. It has a heavy, almost chilling atmosphere. Thousands are buried in the 37 cemeteries and memorials in the park, and you can feel their presence.

I first felt this in the wee hours of the morning of 25 April as I waited on the beach amongst the large crowd for the 47 soldiers from the 1915 campaign to arrive for the anniversary dawn service. It was a starry night with a large moon not casting much light. There was a slight breeze and gentle waves were rolling on to the pebbly shore. Peering through the darkness I pictured our boys off-shore, in 1915, drifting, waiting quietly to land.

The 47 diggers arrived in the morning darkness to cheers. Dawn broke and after the teary dawn service tribute concluded, fate had it we met similar weather to that fateful 1915 day—cool and slightly cloudy.

The Sphinx, a protruding, towering steep, arid mountain-face glared down on us. As I stood on the beach I wondered how the soldiers were able to make as much ground as they did in such rugged terrain. Turkish soldiers, rifles in hand, were again guarding the mountain, but this time they had come to honour our dead and have their photo taken with us.

Standing on the north face of ANZAC Cove after the ceremony, I watched people wander through the cemeteries. They seemed as shell-shocked as I was from a euphoric wave of pride in their country. I realised this is what the Diggers must have been feeling all those years ago after being thrown into a situation where all they had were each other. A returning Digger was rumoured to have said, “If I die while here, I want to be buried with my mates”.

Trying to absorb everything, I could imagine Simpson walking down the hill with his donkey. Were those gunshots I could hear? Were the distant, still apparent trenches housing men eating their bully beef or lighting cigarettes — no, they were full of travelling Aussies who had come to pay their respects.

It’s surreal, the peacefulness that engulfs you. Seeing Gallipoli really makes you understand what the Diggers did for us. The best tribute of all, epitomising the feeling of the area, is that of the Turkish leader Ataturk, immortalised on a stone memorial at the north face of the cove.

“Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives..... You are now lying on the soil of a friendly country.

Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnie and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side. Here in this country of ours... you, the mothers, who sent their sons from far-away countries, wipe away your tears. Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.—Ataturk 1934”

After the morning service we trekked to the Turkish memorial near the tip of the peninsula. Here at Cape Helles, I saw an embrace between an Allied and a Turkish soldier from the campaign. In these few moments of intimate peace the hardship and meaninglessness of the campaign were not forgotten, but forgiven.

After this ceremony many Australians went to another sacred site of the park—Lone Pine Cemetery, scene of some of the bloodiest, most horrific fighting and where seven Victoria Crosses were won. Here rows of white headstones are guarded on three sides by tall pine trees with a large, white, stone memorial on the fourth side. It is a small world of remembrance within a larger world of remembrance.

The day had turned out warm and sunny and, as it came to a close, I stood high in the hills of Gelibolu National Park. I looked down the hills to ANZAC Cove, where friendly warships lay off-shore. Through the glare to my left was the Dardanelles and to my right, Suvla Bay, where the water looked inviting. All once just names, now, very much places.

What I remember most about my time in Gallipoli is the beautiful, silent, eerie, peaceful place that is the legacy of the battles fought there. It is a national park alive with flora and fauna, a place where Turkish foes are now my friends.

If you are travelling to Turkey during your European travels don’t miss out on a visit to Gallipoli.

Every year a dawn service is held on ANZAC Cove. If you’d like to attend, the UK Australasian Clubs in London usually run tours as do RSLs.

If travelling independently, you can catch a bus from Istanbul to Canakkale. There is accommodation available here, including Australasian run hostels where you can stay and organise your trip into Gallipoli. From Canakkale you catch a ferry to the Gelibolu National Park. Local buses service the area.

Author: Sharyn McCullum

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